Kartika_Issue15

CLUB GIGOLO
Sean Labrador y Manzano
ISSUE 15 | SPRING 2013
Am I (are we) suddenly contracted when Beth swaps mint pushed from her
mouth to my mouth like resuscitation suggests kinship can find a coherent
space quietly tumbling gratitude perhaps ordering basket of chicken fried
marinade of soy sauce and kalamansi and I play the magnanimous client
replenishing San Miguel and patrolling the floor mamasans approve
upselling and I am reminded of daughters smartly dressed selling jicama
from rugged tables the perimeter of every town along the MacArthur
Highway and fortunate buyers beware the father behind the acacia leaping to
close a deal outside the matchmaker’s purview and my mother wants me to
return to the States with bride who knows thirst and rural courtesies and the
names of rice a daughter-in-law who distrusts bottled water labels a
barangay pageant queen as congenial as my mother who draws strength from
reciprocating pumps -We are cousins: Beth and I and no one else knows
except the professor comparing certification and health care of sex workers
in the free trade zone he negotiates mistresses at the other booth now that I
have been assigned field study the other students finally abandoned for the
roulette wheel’s immediate gratification - Who wants to track how far the
hired help have travelled from farms like Easter penitents marching for
terminal patrons to be crucified to learn supply and demand and job market
oversaturation and how the Taiwanese mother-board plant’s refusal
measures Rizal Avenue’s blocks of shame at every hotel, the valet pimps
vocational school girl with technical tongue, extracting value of cheap candy
- I did not expect to find Beth so soon but I chose my cousin for her legs I
chose her legs before I learned they belong to the woman I am looking for
the family hero I theorize to exist and I find her in the dressing room sitting
on a stool by the bunk bed pushed to the wall leading to the window and the
shanties slouching into Shit River and across the river, industrial park
promises emerging from abandoned naval base her head turned away while
the bright harem advertised themselves as themselves was I sold on her
mature inattentiveness or quiescence? - Beth shares bounty of breast and
skin the crows not chosen because of their legs I like mine carceral and
netted and arabesque she offers a little meat finger to my mouth in steady
unflinching rehearsed motion sailors have been fed this way and plant
managers too I insist the carcass to the wind and clamor -Two girls, short
and lack the illusion of height matched in one-shouldered shellacs dueling to
Destiny Child’s “Survivor” facing the mirror wall, squatting to the beat, each
holding an invisible torch thought I couldn’t you thought I couldn’t you
thought I couldn’t you thought that I would but I am not attracted to
recumbent shoulders perhaps the unapologetic Korean talent scout in three-
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